Aaron Collins' Mixed Game Chapter 1
by Psychoflop
Summary: 54 Enter...


Chapter 1: Pocket Aces, Pocket Universe

"Where the fuck are we?"

When 13 people are in the same room, know each other yet don't know how they arrived to where they are, it tends to create a level of anxiety not often experienced. The room they were in was large, 20 foot high ceilings, with only low-level electric lighting and a sort of rustic gold wallpaper covering all 4 walls. It doesn't matter who made the opening inquiry, for all 13 had it on their minds.

Aaron Langemann had been pouring his 9th glass of Crown and Coke to aid in his sleep when he felt the touch of a figure colder than Canadian winter. He hadn't had a good night's sleep since a weekend where a childhood friend had been (presumably) killed, he was 1 of the only innocent people which had the role of...detective...thrust upon him. People helping him probably thought his arrogance was sabotaging the case, but he pulled through and solved the crimes made by 1 of the more unlikely people at the party, and it set off an aftermath that he could not share with most people, not even his own wife. He looked around the room, picking the 1 person who gave him the fewest problems in that hotel 1 April weekend.

"Well, at least the director's here. Wonder how he's been."

Andrey Iskanov was working on post-production for a new movie (an adaptation of a novel he picked up which was eerily similar to a weekend he had in Canada not too long ago) when he saw a flash of light in a mirror behind him. He then felt a moment of extreme exhaustion, followed by his arrival here. He enjoyed the minimal lighting as he had grown light-sensitive in the time following his long journey to Toronto. He had lost contact with his travel companions and given how quiet 1 of them was, that was probably for the best. Still, better to reach out than be stuck in a strange place alone.

"The Opera singer is here, I hope that she has an album of hers that I can buy."

Chiara had been in wardrobe looking for her stage costume alone when a shadow grew in size and she had no answer (even now) as to why. She had been on edge for some time, since she saw her husband decapitated only to find out a few days later when she arrived home that he was alive. Cloning was literally just beginning to occur on a massive scale and she had no idea that she would be affected by it directly so soon. Still, she was happy that her husband was alive and safe. Even with the night terrors she still faced. She saw a red-haired gentleman who she recognized as getting...lucky the last time she saw him.

"Well he's not as well-dressed as he was on those fateful nights, but maybe Damon knows what's going on."

Damon Newall was just as in the dark as the others, maybe even more so. He was 1 of a select few to attend an opening night screening of the new movie "Film-Tier" and was just as shocked at a character named after him as he was by a flash of light from the corner of his left eye. Then he woke up here, he was just in a t-shirt and jeans with black sneakers (a far cry from the shirts and ties he preferred wearing). He hoped to get back before the movie had finished a Q&A with the sound mixer, as it was a nice break from trying to make a comic book about a hotel he visited that changed his life. He saw someone he recognized from his recent past at the end of the room.

"I'm not a fan of professional wrestling, but I wonder how Harley is doing"

Harley Pakula was happy to be where he was (even if he had no idea where). He was in the middle of an opposing wrestler dropping a flying elbow from the top rope (where the table that Harley was supposed to be laying on was switched from a wooden one to a glass one earlier in the day). Also, the lights at the venue had been getting increasingly bright (as he was wondering how he got out of a hotel alive when his parents told him he was murdered a few days prior and had the CNN footage to prove it). When he got here, he was impressed by the Frank Gutierrez artwork along the east wall (It made him wonder if he was copied by scientists). He saw someone he recognized, someone who lived near a friend of his in Canada.

"Is that Justin Welsh? What's he doing here? Wonder how he's been since Aaron's death..."

Justin had just seen his son come home from 9th grade orientation when he was taken. The sky turned black, and he had seen shadows of very tall beings coming from a playground near his apartment. He recalled ghost stories about his apartment complex told to him by his now deceased best friend (as Aaron was a former resident of the building). Justin missed Aaron deeply, the entire town of Brampton just seemed more empty in the weeks that passed without him. He saw this place as a place of transition, he just didn't know of what.

"Laura's looking better now than she did when I last saw her."

Indeed, Laura could definitely walk around better than she could at the Fairmont Royal York. Her electric scooter did not come with her (to wherever this was) but it's better than the hospital she was in at the time. She struggled to recall if she went a week without a trip to the emergency room in her adult life. But all she remembered was the cold that was touching her before she arrived, it was an impossible cold...beyond what Earth was capable of. She took a walk around, enjoying the freedom of her legs for a change, and saw an older woman that she knew immediately.

"Lindsay, poor woman. I hope she recovers from the trauma of outliving her son."

It was not the murder Lindsay Collins needed to recover from, it was after the funeral. She was told by her "dead" son that he used his "murder" to disappear from a life of luxury and into a life of seclusion. By now, she had come to terms with the reality that her son outsmarted everyone who ever knew him. 1 thing that she could not accept however, was his theory as to how wrong mainstreaming him out of his autism was. In any event, she would 1 day be happy for her son...maybe. She was writing out a schedule for her week when the bedroom light went out and she arrived here. She scanned the room quickly and found a young man that she cared for deeply. He may have represented a group of people whose keyboard player had "killed" her son, but she knew that he was innocent.

"Marcel's here. That's odd, I thought he went back to Germany."

He did in fact return to Germany, where he needed multiple surgeries to correct a dislocated shoulder (and he still had nerve damage). He was struggling to find work because of it (bands won't hire roadies with 1 good arm), but a sizable amount of money materialized in his bank account (from some bank in San Diego, California of all places) so he was by no means headed for homelessness. Still, a friend of his was gone and no amount of money was going to bring him back. He was actually indulging in some chocolate when he saw his basement light increase in brightness, then he showed up here. The room was nice enough, but with a dozen others in the room only 1 person caught his eye.

"Phoenix is here. Too bad she didn't bring any of her D.J. equipment"

No, that would be stranger for her and everyone else. Phoenix was putting 1 of her children to bed when a shadow on the wall grew bigger, then she arrived here. Returning to Saskatoon seemed dull compared to that weekend in Toronto. Yeah, people got killed and all but it was so exciting to be in a hotel that old, completely locked out of society. If only Aaron could've seen what everyone did for those few days, he would've been so happy. It was so wrong to think in such a bad taste for such a good friend, but Aaron adored bad taste. She looked around the room, seeing some people from that weekend...

...except 1...

1 who she did not see at that hotel at all. 1 who she only knew existed because of a TV show.

"Looks like the gravy train has pulled into...wherever this is."

But Ricky was in the hotel that evening, in secret. To keep Aaron safe, keep the crimes to a minimum, get Aaron out, provide evidence to the detectives and to ultimately thwart the network that made him famous. Ricky was actually on his way home from an auction when he noticed a tall being dressed in black successfully running to catch up to his truck. Then a flash of light, and he arrived here. It was nearly impossible for him to go about his life after everything that had transpired. The network was basically abandoning all of its' shows, and he was going to auctions outside of what the network was filming. It didn't set well with him that a network would treat 1 fan as badly as they treated his friend. And on occasion, Ricky Smith looked up at the night sky with a cold beer in his hand, wishing Aaron was OK, wherever he wound up after Ricky had got him out of the Royal York, onto a plane for Texas where he carried on to a location only he knew. He still remembered the guest list of Aaron's birthday party quite well, recognizing a high school friend of Aaron's immediately.

"A shame I never met her when everything was going on in Toronto. Maybe I should go say hello now, while I have the chance."

Susan was as lost as everyone else, maybe even more so. She was sitting at home alone, watching a Leafs vs. Legacy game when the world around her seemed to turn into some kind of bad acid trip. It was as if Earth was being bent at the subatomic level. Then she arrived here, to wherever this was. She never got out much, and had barely left her place at all after her trip to the Royal York. It left her all scarred inside, that a mass murder happened around her and she was even at 1 point in time, thought to be responsible. She'll likely never go to a hotel again, especially to 1 in Toronto. She decided to reach out to someone she didn't know directly.

"Is that Tina?"

It indeed was. She had returned to Kingston, and had taken an extra cleaning job to keep busy when she noticed multiple shadows that "almost" looked human approached her from behind. Everything had scared her since she went to a friend's birthday party and dead bodies started piling up. Now she was so jumpy, she would jump 3 feet in the air if anyone farted. Someone touched her on the shoulder, she shrieked.

They all finally looked at each other in the centre of the room, despite their desires to talk to each other there were no words to break the ice. Until Harley had a memory of being half-asleep on a plane, where he briefly saw a cowboy hat wearing ranger. Figuring this to be real and not a dream, Harley stuck out his hand for a saviour,

"Thanks for getting me out, Ricky"

Ricky (recognizing Harley instantly) tipped his hat, "My pleasure, sir."

No further words needed to be said as they shook hands, at least not by them. Phoenix on the other hand, felt a need to say something: "Yeah, I thought you were killed that night."

Lindsay shook her head, "I guess it doesn't matter now. Aaron faked his death to retire from his life. I wouldn't doubt it if he switched everyone who died for clones."

Aaron Langemann nodded, "He had been planning to erase all records of him for some time, but I have no clue where he is. And to be honest, I don't really blame him anymore. No one knows where he is, really."

Marcel looked at everyone and asked, "Did we all get here mysteriously?"

Everyone nodded, followed by Laura asking, "Am I the only one who notices that the air we're breathing is...too fresh?"

Tina nodded, supporting her YFE sister. "It's like it's been filtered a dozen times."

Chiara shook her head, "No...no...there's too much pure oxygen here. Casinos like to pump extra oxygen into the rooms to make customers slightly high and gamble more money."

Damon pointed to a sign, "Can anyone read that? My eyes are out of whack."

Justin walked over, put his glasses on and read slowly, "Welcome new arrivals, please follow the signs and arrows to the main hall."

Andrey shrugged his shoulders and said, "What do we have to lose? And did anyone else notice that we're using contractions here?"

"Where the fuck are we?"

When 13 people are in the same room, know each other yet don't know how they arrived to where they are, it tends to create a level of anxiety not often experienced. The room they were in was large, 20 foot high ceilings, with only low-level electric lighting and a sort of vibrant silver wallpaper covering all 4 walls. It doesn't matter who made the opening inquiry, all 13 had it on their minds.

Elizabeth Bowman had been icing her shoulders in her apartment after a long day of winding gear-bikes when she felt the touch of a figure colder than a barrel of French republic water. She hadn't had a good night's sleep since a few days in time where a novelist fan had adapted the adventure of a band she knew trying to play the Olympics despite the prejudice surrounding the "gear-bodies" (a group of people who have at least 1 gear-based amputation). She was 1 of the many people who left behind their lives and even families in order to support a music group on the other side of the planet. In the aftermath, she resumed her career as a winder (someone who winds the gears of a plane so that it can fly). And life was a bit more...slow...since Phoenix Crysalys played the Olympic games. Perhaps that was as it should be, and it's not like she was alone in this room.

"A shame that Fabio doesn't have his Cliano here, but I'll say hello just the same."

Fabio Ammuri had been working on a new song (the first of a concept album detailing the road to the Olympics that would be sold along with his friend's novella documenting the occasion) when he saw a flash of light in a mirror behind him. He then felt a moment of extreme exhaustion, followed by his arrival here. He enjoyed the reflective silver wallpaper in this room as he had grown bored of the earth tones that dominated indoor spots in the French Republic. He had gazed around the room searching for other band members or even helpers, finding 1 immediately.

"Well, my clummer is here, I should go see if he knows what's going on better than I do."

Gregg Davis was just as in the dark as the others, maybe even more so. He was re-arranging his percussion kit in the church when he saw a flash of light from the corner of his left eye. Then he woke up here, he was just in a wool sweater and long pants. He hoped to get back before someone broke into the church and stole all of the instruments but, it was a nice break from trying to learn how to sketch people and educate the townspeople as to why the prohibition in the French Republic is a good thing. He saw someone he recognized from his band's collection of helpers on the other side of the room.

"Does that pirate ever not overdress?"

Heather Stitt was indeed very much overdressed (in a long red captain's outfit with black boots). She was in the middle of going over some fresh Mediterranean fish and gold pieces she found in the Adriatic Sea when the lights had been getting increasingly bright (as she was wondering how she was being adapted in a story a friend was writing about her and people she knew). When she got here, she was impressed by the Da Vinci sketches along the west wall (It made her wonder if he was copied by sketch artists). She saw someone she recognized, someone who travelled from New Germany just to help a band she likewise assisted.

"I wonder how Holly's hip is holding up."

Holly Rapp's hip actually felt better than it had in months. Holly had just seen the last of her church's followers go home for the day. The sky turned black, and she had seen shadows of very tall beings coming from the back lot used to store gear-buses. At first she thought that New German police had travelled from halfway around the world to apprehend her (for what, she had no idea as she had never committed a crime before in her life). Holly missed New Germany, but she knew travelling to the French Republic was the right thing to do for her. She looked around and saw so many familiar faces. She spun around the room with her eyes closed, and selected someone at random.

"Mistress Jen is here? She's been kind of quiet since the Olympics."

There was a very good reason Jen had been silent (even reclusive outside of servicing clients and meetings that she couldn't escape). She had been having nightmares of buildings in her homeland of the Chingacousy, of people riding horses and carriages to rob steam-powered vehicles on metal tracks as well as dozens of other places that she did not recognize. She struggled to recall if her dreams were all stories written by a friend of hers from near her place of birth, but all she remembered was the cold that was touching her before she arrived, it was an impossible cold...beyond what Earth was capable of. She took a walk around, enjoying the freedom of not being with someone who paid for her "talents" and saw an older woman that she knew immediately.

"Happy to see that Jess is here, even if it is without her daughter."

It was not her daughter that she was missing the most (although she did miss her), it was her author friend. She had taken him to her private chambers, and while he was there the next day he looked so lost, like part of him had left in the middle of the night. She wasn't prepared to accept that the Aaron who was in her room 1 night was a different Aaron by sunrise. The worst of it was, she faintly heard a voice that was not hers, Aaron's or her daughter's (it didn't even sound human) that night and she grew increasingly frustrated for not being able to determine who it was (or if it was just a figment of her imagination). She was writing out a schedule for her week of cleaning when the bedroom light went out and she arrived here. She scanned the room quickly and found a young woman that she cared for deeply.

"Wonder what Julie's doing here."

Julie Bourke was helping her husband unpack when a candle got brighter and brighter out of the corner of her right eye. Then she arrived here, uncertain of everything. Not much had happened between a few weeks of her life being adapted to a novella and her husband arriving from her native Upper Zealand. In fact, she felt a tad overlooked when Aaron was asking everyone questions about the escapades of Phoenix Crysalys. She wasn't featured as prominently as she was in the detective novel, but then again, the story was shorter. There was talk about having her in a story between other stories (something Aaron called an "Interquel"), but she was cut out of that completely. She wasn't mad though, she had a long life to look forward to in the French Republic (1 that could not be guaranteed in Upper Zealand). She looked around at the relatively familiar faces around her, selecting 1.

"Nice to see another Upper Zealander transplant of the French Republic."

Karl however, was preoccupied by trying to verify authenticity of an alleged Da Vinci sketch on the wall (as he was looking at a similar 1 at a museum when he felt a cold touch on his shoulders). It was of a flying machine construct that few had ever seen before. It had all of the usual markings of Da Vinci's work: his trademark signature, the exact staining of the paper used, the ultra-fine leads (Da Vinci preferred them as they drew in a more nuanced manner) and a small self-portrait on the top left corner of the page...

...but all the good forgers knew about those, Karl was looking for the math. He found it. The paper Da Vinci used was mathematically equal in regards to length as well as width (a near impossibility in Karl's world). Karl knew that this sketch was real and whoever acquired it had forked over a lot of Republic Francs. Now that he had that settled, he was happy that his band was self-sufficient now and that his dear friend would be telling their story to the world. Looking around, he saw a new helper that he was quite fond of.

"Nice to see that the Lioness is here."

Leila was just heading home from another 1 of the church's communal meals when the Moon got brighter, then she was here (at least she wasn't caught in the rain again). She kept herself busy by providing some translation work to some Eurussian expatriates, but she knew that life would be a little slower after the Olympics were over (but not as slow as it would be if she stayed home in Kursk). She kept smiling though, no matter what the French Republic threw at her. She walked around the perimeter of the room as it was strange to her. No windows of any kind, it induced a sense of claustrophobia. But the familiar faces around her were enough for now.

"Hope Megan understands what's going on."

Megan didn't, she was washing the dishes of the church when a shadow came from the door. Her last feeling was that she was being abducted by someone (or something). Then she arrived here, which was the farthest thing from a church in terms of atmosphere. Churches (all over the world), were made to give a person a sense of welcome (or at least they should). This room felt like a bank or maybe a politician's office. Of course, with so many people she knew in here with her things couldn't be all that bad. There was even a winder from Rome that she had become quite close to.

"Maybe Solveig has the day off too, like Mrs. Bowman."

Solveig Langhelle did indeed have the day off, but that was not the point. She was upset because first some thug stole the fruit she bought at the Rome Farmer's market for the week, then when she caught up to him, he was a great deal taller than she was, pale, and seemed very...out of place in Rome (or in the French Republic for that matter). Then he surrendered the fruit to her, but by touching her she landed here (wherever here was). She was (suffice to say), very frustrated by what was going on. Solveig didn't think she would ever forget that trip to the fruit market for the rest of her life, but at least now there was someone here to talk to that she knew (other than her co-worker Elizabeth or the local police constable).

"Tamara will listen. I wonder how her back is doing"

Tamara Costa's back felt better since her most recent adjustment of her artificial spine. Since she retired from being a Courtesan/Brothel owner, she didn't have to move around as much. When she did however, it put more strain on her (she was even having trouble bending over to pick things up). She then went to the Gearist's office, had her false spine adjusted, and she returned to normal. Her last memory was seeing what looked like a tall Yakuza soldier, travelling from New Japan to her new home in the rural area of the French Republic. By her own admission, she knew that the Yakuza were relentless in pursuing those who defied them. She even successfully killed 1 in hand-to-hand combat (something so rare that a friend of hers wrote about it in a book about her favourite band). She then buried him, turned her whorehouse over to her staff, and fled the country as fast as she could with hundreds of millions of yen. But Yakuza were generally short people, so who was that that she saw before she got here?

They met in the centre of the room, not knowing who would speak first. Karl decided to break the ice with a routine question, "Is everybody OK?"

Everyone nodded, followed by Tamara asking, "For all the gear-bodies in the room, do your...prosthetics feel better here than they do anywhere else?

Fabio made a full extension of his left arm and smiled, "Like it was first put on me today."

Megan made a full extension of her right arm, "I agree, it feels like a real arm again."

Holly quickly walked around in a circle with a puzzled look on her face, "This is strange. I was booked to have my hip repaired because there was a click between gears. Now it sounds normal."

Julie nodded, "Same with my elbow."

Gregg's eyes widened, "I'm kicking myself. I only just noticed that I can see better out of my right eye."

The all-bodies (those who have no amputations), were happy for their gear-body friends, even clapping politely. Tina to her credit, made an observation of her own: "My clothes are cleaner. Like someone put them in the wash while we were asleep. Mine was dirty from walking around the yard of gear-buses. I miss my job."

Elizabeth and Solveig simultaneously said, "We don't miss ours, we'll work until we die!"

Jess laughed at their timing, then look up to a higher point on the wall, "Well, I notice that mechanized sundial's minute and hour hands are spinning constantly. What did Aaron call those when he visited us? Oh right, a clock."

Leila gave a cursory glance to what Jess saw, then returned to she was focusing on, "I was reading the sign: 'Welcome new arrivals, please follow the signs and arrows to the main hall.'"

Jen took the lead, "Let's go. Maybe some of our friends are in other rooms."

"Where the fuck are we?"

When 13 people are in the same room, know each other yet don't know how they arrived to where they are, it tends to create a level of anxiety not often experienced. The room they were in was large, 20 foot high ceilings, with only low-level electric lighting and a sort of medium bronze wallpaper covering all 4 walls. It doesn't matter who made the opening inquiry, all 13 had it on their minds.

Adam Debideen had been busy cleaning his guns outside when a cloaked figure approached him. It did not speak, it just reached out and touched him. He then arrived here in a daze, like the others in the room he was sure. Adam was not used to seeing bronze (nor this type of lighting). In fact he began to wonder if the legends from his home were true that lightning can be harnessed for personal use if treated with the proper care and respect. If he figures out who took him (and the others) to this place, that would in fact be his 1st question. But for now he was content to reach out to someone that he recognized, to see if they knew what was going on.

"Interesting, I thought Allan was at the saloon tonight"

Allan Mcninch was indeed at the saloon, balancing its' books for the week an hour after closing. A draft came from a window that was supposedly closed and when Allan walked over to check it out, he felt a cold touch and then he was here. He too was fascinated by the lighting here, but what caught his attention more was the musty smell of the room. It was not a musty smell like the smell of an old bookstore or attic at a rich person's house or some old barn, but the smell that he detected when he went to the other side of Khabarovsk to get a fresh deck of playing cards after a previous deck had been bent beyond repair. It was a smell that made him happy enough to know that he was not entirely in danger. Still, he should probably try to open a dialogue with someone else in the room.

"Nice to see David Flannagan again, wonder what he was up to when all of this happened."

Like Adam, David had been busy cleaning out his guns (but at least David was indoors), when the candles in the room started getting brighter. At first he thought it would help him clean his guns faster, but ultimately it was just the first sign that he was about to get abducted. Part of his brain wondered if he was in a place where physics has less meaning than it does where he came from. But that thought disturbed him, as if it wasn't him thinking it but someone like him far away. He put that thought out of his mind for now and decided to get some answers.

"At least Sheriff Isaac is here, he has a way of knowing things before they happen."

For once in his life, Isaac was at a complete loss as to what was going on (which should tell you how screwed up things really are if you knew Mr. Tong). He was on his way back to his office with some fresh shotgun shells when he saw a stranger in his town. He approached it, offering to recommend a place to stay. That's all he remembered, although unlike anyone in this room (or the other rooms for that matter) he knew that there was gap in his memory of precisely 94 minutes and 22 seconds. He also ruled out that he was still in Russia (due to a lack of Vodka scent in the air), being in Imperial China (as he would have been executed by now for leaving the country as a youth), or on a boat to Japakorea (as he got sea sick very easily and would've thrown up all over the floor by now). 1 way or another, he would figure this out. In fact, he decided to put his interrogation skills to good use.

"Maybe the undertaker can give me some answers."

But James Ford had even less information to give than the Sheriff. He had just finished burying some old lady in the middle of the night when his shovel mysteriously began to bend in a way that seemed impossible. Then a flash of light, and he was here. James decided to take some initiative and slap himself in the face, he felt a momentary twinge of pain (which ruled out that he was dead himself or back home sleeping). So he was back to square one. He also felt a little lighter based on what he was carrying on his person, but he decided to figure that out later as he looked around the room for the person who he thought knew the most.

"I'm actually going to break with tradition and see if Jason knows what's going on."

Jason did not, for he was also busy cleaning out his guns (and also indoors like David) when he distinctly heard someone singing, "It's such a brutal planet" in a way that he felt that he should have recognized the song (but didn't). Then something grabbed him, and he woke up here. Why was that song so familiar? It was as if he heard it somewhere on the ghost continent but he hadn't been there in his entire life (that he knew of). As much as it greatly frustrated him that he had to know where that song came from, even he knew that getting to figure out where he was was the top priority.

"Kate looks like she knows what's going on."

If looks were ever more deceiving, it would not be here. Kate probably had the strangest route here of all. She had been having nightmares since a friend of hers died and that his death may or may not have been recorded on a vinyl disk. It wasn't the death itself, but another voice in the room that had no earthly business being there (and in fact, did not sound completely human). She would go to sleep normally, than she would dream of a void that she could never comprehend other than a few images of a tunnel that stretched a distance well beyond what a human being should be able to travel. The voice kept getting louder until she woke up, and it had been doing this for a few months now. Tonight though, she was wide awake when she heard it. Then she was here...

"Maybe the hairdresser will know something."

Krystal Welsh was actually twitching heavily, she had been putting the finishing touches on a wig when the door to her shop swung wide open. Only when she went to close it, there was a figure standing BEHIND her (which she only saw through a mirror). How could someone be that tall? Anyway, she had been still holding her scissors in her right hand, and when she arrived here she was no longer holding them. That was what began the twitching, although it subsided after a couple of minutes. She wondered where her husband was, but was happy that she at least knew a few people. She gathered her composure (as best she could) and picked someone at random.

"Laurie's here? Well, if nothing else maybe I could get a drink."

Laurie wasn't carrying anything other than the clothes on her back. And if the lights in the back of the saloon had gotten brighter a few minutes earlier, she wouldn't even have that. She had been changing out of formal wear (required for business owners in Russia) and into a casual ensemble of a white blouse and black pants when the light started getting brighter, she hurried in dressing until she got fully dressed. A split second later, she was here. She could see her son out of the corner of her right eye, but decided to press someone else in the room for information.

"Oh goodie, the cowgirl is here."

Melinda Hughes was another of the ones that was busy cleaning out their guns (only outside like Adam), when her campfire mysteriously blew out. She resumed cleaning (albeit more slowly as it was totally dark outside and she didn't trust herself), until she felt something pull on her hair, then she was here. She had plans to visit Dr. Welsh the next morning regarding pains in her stomach, but that would have to wait. In the meantime, she had a mystery to solve and not many people around her to ask to help solve it.

"Hmm. If Rob's here, who's watching the bank?"

Probably 1 of the more valid questions asked about...wherever this was. Rob was actually just locking up the bank when 1 last customer tried to get some business done. Rob slowly walked to the front end of the bank to try to gently ask them to leave, and that was the last thing he saw before arriving here. Other than a wide-brimmed hat, Rob had no recollections as to who his last customer was. Probably for the best, as he had more important things on his plate:

"Didn't Sherry leave Khabarovsk?"

They all did, technically. But Sherry Ripa was on a boat to Japakorea to try her hand at singing there after a showdown with some Mafiya left her terrified. Not as terrified however as her last few minutes on the boat. She had performed an impromptu show for some 1st-class passengers who had offered her more than the cost of her ticket to sing in a regional hybrid of Korean and Japanese spoken usually during matters of business. After the show, this really tall...person (a term she chose reluctantly) started following her, finally catching up to her just before she reached her quarters on the ship. She did see an employee of the saloon she had just left behind.

"I missed Susan from the moment I left."

Susan had heard the vinyl disk with Kate, and had the same nightmares (as well as nightmares about really tall inns and the tick-tocking of random watches). Talking to each other about them was not helping either. The sound of the voice was also the last thing she remembered before she was brought here, and she was as frightened as her work partner. There was however, 1 person here who made her feel very safe.

"I know I am not in Russia right now but it's nice to see the cooler 1 more time."

If Trevor had noticed anyone else in the room, he would've been happy to see them too. But his mind was in a sense of tunnel vision, as he was on his way to his weekly meeting with the Sheriff when someone behind him tried to stab him. Trevor tried to fight him off but as soon as he touched him, he wound up here. He snapped out of his deep focus and approached everyone else in the room.

Adam had a question to begin, but changed it at the last second, "Am I the only 1 here who's missing their guns?"

Melinda, Jason, David and Isaac (the only other ones with guns at the time they were captured) checked inside their coats, then said "No!" simultaneously.

Sherry wiped her forehead of non-existent sweat, "Thank goodness for that."

Trevor nodded in agreement with Sherry and said, "They may have their place here at some point, but not right now."

Allan and Laurie (ever in synch as Son and Mother) asked, "Does anyone know where we are?"

Kate and Susan shook their heads, "No, but nice lighting though." spoke both at once. Lighting was a key to the work of Saloon girls like them as they could kill the light if their client was not particularly handsome.

Rob nodded in agreement, "It highlights that sign quite well: 'Welcome new arrivals, please follow the signs and arrows to the main hall.'"

Krystal smiled as they headed out of the room, cheerfully thinking out loud "I wonder if this is like an inn or something and there are multiple floors with other people."

She was more right than she knew. For in the floors above, 15 people were scattered about from places not written about...until now.

"Where the fuck am I?

Tara Hayden woke up in a hotel room that she did not remember entering. She had not consumed alcohol in a few days so she knew there was no gap in her memory caused by that. Retracing her steps, she had just left baggage claim in Toronto's Geddy Lee international airport (which for some reason, her brain was telling her that it was named other things in other places) and she noticed that the customs form agent was a giant, extremely pale figure of sorts and tried to shake her hand (as she was known from being on Storage Wars Canada). That was her last memory...

The roomed seemed like a standard single room: A simple all-beige bathroom with an emphasis on stainless steel, an empty closet, no TV. (which she thought was odd right away), a mirror (which showed her sitting on a queen sized blue bed), 1 desk with a vintage phone and 1 lamp. Maybe she could figure out what was going on if she thought back further, to her recent vacation:

She went to the booming sea port of Wen tu la, which was a Chinese-American colony near the border of the Latin America Territories (and along the Pacific Ocean). China had colonized the West Coast of what would've been the United States centuries before. They also owned what you would consider Japan since the late 6th century due to no organization on the throne when Empress Suiko died before she could begin her reign. Tara only knew this because a friend of hers debated at a university as to whether it was by illness or murder recently. She travelled alone for 2 reasons, to sign a contract extension for Storage Wars and to take advantage of the cutthroat markets where vendors are underbidding each other in order to get business from tourists. It was a great vacation, but no new information as to how she got here.

And then the phone rang...Tara actually needed 2 or 3 minutes to debate in her own head as to whether or not to answer it. As it didn't seem to stop ringing, Tara picked it up.

"Hello?"

"If you want to know why you're here, head for the elevator. It will take you downstairs to the others."

They hung up immediately, Tara reluctantly went downstairs. Her only other option was to stay in the room alone, and that made Tara nervous.

"Where the fuck am I?"

David Kay woke up thinking that he was under attack, and was so relieved that he wasn't that it didn't immediately sink in that he was nowhere near his own bed. He was a veteran knight of the anti-Roman league, pressed into service by his parents as soon as England law would allow. When it came to his method of protecting his home, there was no school like the old school: Get on your horse, rush the Roman and be back home for some kidney pie. He had a hobby of picking antique goods for profit as a boy, but his family tree had knights along its' branches for over 1300 years, so that was his destiny. Still, if the Judiciorum had been drafted, there may not be any more fighting and the hispano-romans/goths would at least not be a memory in the British museum.

He tried to figure out how he got to where he was, but all he remembered was being touched by something extremely cold a few minutes after he was told it was his turn to sleep. Well, to him this was definitely an upgrade from his home lodgings. Including a note on a table with his first name as a subject, David thoughtfully walked over to read it, having never seen paper that white before:

"To Mr. Kay,

As soon as you are awake, please join us downstairs.

-The Staff"

"Why not. I could use a pint in a class inn like this."

There were no words of question as this sleeping giant awoke. He went to bed in his modified chicken coop as the sun rose on a beautiful Sunday morning...

_"He didn't like to jostle in the night."_

...And woke up in this grown-up room, only remembering a large figure (like him) watching him sleep. He was pleased to be in such a clean place, but was disturbed because the chickens didn't even have enough time to bury him alive like he asked to. This giant has always hated daylight.

_"Finding it much soother in the night"_

And with good reason: Where he came from is a modern Mayan civilization nightmare (Copan cheated to beat Quirigua 1275 years ago, it started a chain reaction leading to annihilating the Spanish Inquisition centuries later. The Mayans had in fact, owned what they called the Colma reservation for well over a millennium. It did not take them long to get bored of sacrificing virgins (or more accurately, women who were impregnated with illegitimate children who were then accused of being virgins and sacrificed before they could tell anyone or prove otherwise. This one was targeted for being excessively tall and socially awkward, so his parents took him to an underground society who hid the persecuted.

_"With his face as pale as pancakes and his posture in rebellion with his height."_

Barns were the easiest for runaways to be found in his world, so he was formally trained not to spend time in them. He had an affinity for chickens so he had a penchant for hiding in chicken coops in between travelling between places where the underground could hide him and his family.

_"He was raised to respect father, he was loving to his ma."_

His dream was to eventually make it north to a place his parents called "The Canadian Free Zone." But the wall separating it from Mayan land was over 200 feet high and heavily guarded, so he learned self-defence skills (particularly the art of nunchuks) and guitar, using both to entertain the underground who were his second family.

_"Being kind to all the children and the animals he saw."_

In fact, there was only 1 urban legend of 1 person successfully making it over the wall, a limber dancer by the name of Michael Jackson:

_"In his youth he looked at Jacko with gleaming admiration, Moonwalking through the gardens of his Disneyland vacation."_

He did however, have an ace in the hole for when his big day came...a plain white kabuki mask and bucket that he always wore (in fact, his own parents haven't seen his real face in years.)

_"Then he took a pallid mask and he glued it to his face. And it gave him the temerity, to join the human race."_

He looked around his room, seeing a guitar in front of the dresser with his name on a tag.

_"He stood like great Ulysses with guitar in his hand, pledging to deflate the cynical that plague the glory land."_

He looked at it with wonder, as the body was a great deal thinner than he was used to. Also of note, was a small box with dials, switches and a small funnel of some kind. Could this be an electric guitar? He had never seen an electrified version of this instrument in all of his life, as only rich Mayan kids could have them. The tag also had a note, telling him that this was to help him communicate with other people and that he should come downstairs quickly.

_"Buckethead"_

"Where the fuck am I?"

Dan Dotson woke up alone, last remembering taking down the information of...someone wearing a long black coat and was so pale that he was likely albino. He hopes the auction that he was about to run wasn't cancelled due to him (presumably) disappearing. Dan Dotson's career as an auctioneer was a lucrative one (he even hoped to get on T.V. soon), but he wished he had more business contacts in Asia as all of the more lucrative T.V. deals were there. When China had collapsed during the boxcar rebellion, Imperial Japan was the only southeast Asian country left with any military power. Dan Dotson took some history courses on the side at U.S.C. and he wrote an award-winning essay that suggested that due to the butterfly effect, if someone had been born a thousand years earlier, that might have been the difference for China. But presently, Dan Dotson was happy for every day among a population of 5 billion. Except for 1 thing...

...he wishes he wasn't living his life alone.

The right woman had never come, and he wasn't getting any younger. But 1st things first, where was he? He had seen many hotel rooms in his day (a job requirement), but this was unique...

...and then the phone rang. Dan picked it up.

"Hello?"

"If you want to know why you're here, head for the elevator. It will take you downstairs to the others."

Others? What others?

"Where the fuck am I?"

If there was 1 place that Joe P hated more than a lawyer's office in Queens, it was a room that he had no idea how he got inside. He was waiting on his attorney to arrive regarding a lawsuit against Joe P's (now former) doctor for misdiagnosis. Doctors where Joe P came from still could not tell the difference between Smallpox and the Measles (which require VERY different treatments). He had the measles, but got the smallpox treatment (and thus almost died). By the native New Yorker's estimates he was likely to receive at least a million dollars in combined punitive damages, expenses and compensation for many missed months of work as an estate salesman, storage room buyer and auctioneer. His lawyer's offices got increasingly cold very fast and when Joe P turned around, he was in this hotel room. Joe P was lamenting that someone should have written down the differences between 2 key diseases centuries ago, maybe it would've prevented some of the epidemics in the years that followed.

Suddenly, a phone in the room rang. Joe P picked up immediately, hoping for some answers.

"Hello?"

"If you want to know why you're here, head for the elevator. It will take you downstairs to the others."

Joe P hung up, electing to take the stairs instead. He was feeling healthy for the first time in a year, so he felt he needed the exercise his once-again healthy legs.

"Where the fuck am I?"

It took a lot of courage for Laura to re-invent herself from selling restaurant equipment to going back to UCLA to learn Byzantine history. She was actually in the library researching that civilization's middle period when the noise in the library kept getting louder and louder...

...only there was no one else in the room except Laura and the librarian. Laura realized that just as she arrived here. Then she wondered why she didn't have her research notes with her. Just as well, a lot of the information she needed was lost in time and like many students of the era, she would be graded in part on her ability to make a logical hypothesis based on what was available. She was however, the first student in decades to approach Byzantine history from an economics point of view. Her independence was something to be admired, that there is no denying. But secretly, she longed for a companion in life.

She had just got out of the bathroom when the phone rang. Laura was confused, for as best that she knew, no one knew she was here.

"Hello?"

"If you want to know why you're here, head for the elevator. It will take you downstairs to the others."

Laura was even more puzzled after whoever was on the other line hung up. She headed downstairs, mainly to stave off boredom.

"Where the fuck am I?"

John Luke was driving home from his job as a scroll drafter in New Amsterdam City when he was rear-ended by a car that looked not just out of place, but out of time as well. He got out of his car to give the hitter more than a piece of his mind when a tall, pale figure hopped out of the driver's seat and ran after John. John was about to lay this guy out in 1 shot when he was mysteriously transported to...wherever he was now.

"This place better have some good food. Chinese, cannolis, anything."

His job as a scroll drafter was a tedious one. First, he gets the order for the text and art, then he has to properly place everything onto a template, then he must supervise the printing in order to ensure that there are no problems. John Luke went over to the mini-fridge in his room for a snack, when several still images flashed through the reaches of his imagination.

"What would happen if printed work was separated into sections called...pages?"

It had certainly not been tried on his world in any known manner, but all that left him when the phone rang.

"Yeah, what do you want?"

"If you want to know why you're here, head for the elevator. It will take you downstairs to the others."

John Luke didn't have enough time to give the caller an earful (with them hanging up and all), but at least if he kept calm he could figure out where he was.

"Where the fuck am I?"

Candy Olsen couldn't remember the last time that she woke up in a bed that she didn't remember getting into. She was in London, about to arrive at a meet and greet for a play she wrote (and her family published) documenting the dark side of the fashion industry. It was greeted with a lot of controversy, as fashion didn't want their secrets being exposed and the consumers who went to plays typically went to musicals or comedies (of which Candy wrote neither). Still, she found a niche of people who were craving something different, something honest in their theatre. The Olsen family had not been treated this well since they passed through France during the reign of King Louis IX.

She (along with security) took the stairs in order to throw off the paparazzi from following her. She noticed that 1 guard was taller than the others, and very pale. When he directed her through the kitchen to a secret exit, she woke up in this room. It was the first time that she woke up somewhere and didn't need coffee, the phone ringing woke her up sufficiently.

"Hello?"

"If you want to know why you're here, head for the elevator. It will take you downstairs to the others."

Candy breathed a sigh of relief, the idea of her using more stairs made her feel a bit nervous.

"Where the fuck am I? Hey, I can speak English here better than when I talk to my employees...except my butler."

Thom Phung spoke his native Vietnamese 95% of the time back home. The other 5% was because his staff couldn't speak Vietnamese at all. Except their leader, a butler and confidante of Thom's from America named Aaron Collins. Thom knew his nation well, and was happy that his home avoided Tran Kinh taking the throne in 1377. Tran Hien stayed on, introducing 1 of the first sections of tax law in Asian history. By the time Thom was born, Vietnam was an economic superpower, having defeated both America and Russia in the Vietnam War by 1965 (with Thom arriving about a decade and a half later).

When Thom reached adulthood, his parents let him access his trust fund, which he used to start several businesses in his town (Real estate and laundromats were his biggest producers). He brought on Aaron to be his right-hand man (a rare privilege for Americans immigrating to Vietnam), and the profits rolled in. Aaron had actually excused himself for the evening when Thom heard loud footsteps coming from outside of his office. Aaron couldn't cause them, as he was below average height and weight. So when Thom went to confront whoever was making the noise, someone touched his left shoulder from behind and he arrived here. Thom was so shaken by that that he didn't even blink when the phone rang.

"Hello?"

"If you want to know why you're here, head for the elevator. It will take you downstairs to the others."

Thom left his room with a touch of anger in his heart.

"Where the fuck am I?"

Ivy Calvin was on an airplane experiencing some turbulence when a tall passenger asked for his assistance in returning a tray table to its' upright position. Then when he shook Ivy's hand in thanks, he arrived here. Ivy was very justifiably upset at this turn of events, as he was on his way to the NFL hall of fame in Canton, Ohio to be inducted for being the quarterback behind 8 consecutive Super Bowl titles for the San Diego Chargers.

"I just hope they don't start the party without me?"

He was not the only inductee this year, but was the main one with well over 90% of the total votes. Then again, he couldn't party as much as he wanted to, as he had to give up alcohol due to developing an allergy towards it in his late 20's. He often wondered if there were other kinds of alcohol other than Gin, Vodka or Beer.

"Even booze distilled in Ireland by Catholic monks would suffice if I didn't faint. Maybe some other world has it...where did THAT come from?"

It was as if Ivy remembered multiple lifetimes for the 1st time ever, like a photograph exposed to several pictures at once. It was, jarring to say the least. So in fact, was the phone ringing.

"Hello?"

"If you want to know why you're here, head for the elevator. It will take you downstairs to the others."

They hung up simultaneously. With Ivy saying, "Good, hopefully I can get a flight out of here."

"Where the fuck am I?"

Angie Michaud awoke wondering who (if anyone) turned the pottery equipment off in the shop. By trade, she worked in a vase shop in Cardiff, Wales so she worried constantly about the co-workers around her. She got to leave early to go visit her wife in the hospital (they had their 1st surrogate child together), when the temperature around her dropped by 5 degrees in 5 minutes. Then she felt someone touching her, then she woke up here. It was a minor thing to worry about, she supposed. The main thing to worry about in her part of the world was the constant terrorism that plagued England and Scotland.

Why the terrorism? Because they were still arguing about where the land should be divided, and had been for hundreds of years. The worst of it began in the mid-16th century when the debatable lands meetings collapsed. They only tried to draw new borders in a civilized manner 3 or 4 times since Angie was born, all of which ended badly. It was a miracle Angie had any kind of life at all in this country. Suddenly the phone rang, Angie assumed it was a co-worker to tell her bad news.

"Hello?"

"If you want to know why you're here, head for the elevator. It will take you downstairs to the others."

Angie thought that was very rude of whoever that was to hang up so suddenly, but her curiosity got the better of her as she headed downstairs.

"Where the fuck am I?"

Mike Braiotta had been going over the books for the week when the lights in the room got progressively brighter in a matter of seconds. It was a great week to be a storage room day trader, finding a 1952 topps Mickey Mantle baseball card in near-mint condition on Monday (in a room that cost $10), to finding the lost set of silverware that was used by John Quincy Adams during his time as the 6th president of the U.S.A.

His business partner preferred to remain anonymous, but their ancestors had been on the Mayflower together, landing at what is now Staten Island on October 10th, 1620. All each of them had on their person was the clothes on their back and 2 of the first modern era violins ever made. They each had their Violins in display cases in their office to remind them of their families meeting, but this anonymous business partner of Mike's played a much newer one as a hobby (even headlining Carnegie Hall 4 times, once at the age of 7). They argued a lot, but Mike knew his partner was as great at numbers as he was covering Vivaldi.

Mike was (understandably) pissed off, he had a wife and 3 kids at home who were likely very worried about him. He wasted no time in picking up the phone that he noticed and calls downstairs to the front desk (figuring out that he was in a hotel room if nothing else).

"Look asshole, I want some answers right the fuck now!"

"If you want to know why you're here, head for the elevator. It will take you downstairs to the others."

Mike was taken aback by the sudden hang-up and cold demeanour in which the desk clerk talked, so he headed downstairs full of piss and vinegar. Can't hustle a hustler.

"Where the fuck am I? Wow, I have not had to speak my native English since I was in college, except when I'm with my family."

Jenny De Grumbles was a businesswoman, owning a shop in Dallas called "Jusqu'a maison De campagne en ville" (Uptown Country Home). Provencal furniture restoration was her speciality, as a matter of fact she was touching up the stain on the legs of a Provencal Sofa when a strange, off-tempo knock came across her door. She went to answer it, only to hear a "boo!" coming from behind her. Then she was here in this room, with no furniture in need of restoration.

Her home in Dallas, Louisiana had been one of the last places to fall to the French when they colonized America in the early 18th century. The Caddo Indians fought for several months to try and save their land, but foreign disease was what got them in the end. There was even a statue of King Louis XV at city hall on her way to work from her home every morning, if only she knew how to touch up bronze. Then again, most of her DNA wasn't French so they likely wouldn't let her touch it. That's culture bias for you. Jenny attempted to look out the window when the phone rang.

"Hello?"

"If you want to know why you're here, head for the elevator. It will take you downstairs to the others."

"Hopefully I can keep speaking English. Took me 20 years to learn French."

"Where the fuck am I?"

Cindy Hayden was closing up Storage Treasures Thrift Store in Nouveau marche (Newmarket), Quebec when there was a massive power surge throughout most of the province. Then someone touched her from behind, and she was here.

Just as well, as she was closing up shop for the very last time. She had just sold a first edition copy of Napoleon Bonaparte's "Journaux en exil" (Diaries in exile) for 3 million Canadian francs. Sealing her retirement fund, she planned to turn the store over to her kids the very next day. She never needed to buy another storage locker again, and very few in Canada ever really got to say that. The diary itself, was a look into Napoleon's final decade in exile on the island of Saint Helena until he finally succumbed to Arsenic Poisoning in 1825.

Cindy scoped her room very quickly and assuming she was in fact captured, she was at least (presumably) going to be treated well. Still, she would at least like a look at her captors' face...

...and then the phone rang.

"Hello?"

"If you want to know why you're here, head for the elevator. It will take you downstairs to the others."

"I intend to. No one locks the veteran up."

"Where the fuck am I?"

Courtney Wagner woke up from a strange dream. A dream that the Apollo theatre was built in 1934, leading New York to become a world capital by the end of the 20th century. But she knew otherwise, she knew that there was a dispute regarding who was going to pay for its' construction. An argument that had (to her knowledge) lead to a complete collapse of New York City by the 1950's. Still, that dream seemed to vivid to dismiss. She had once dreamed of living in New York, as it was still a multicultural melting pot. But her life as a museum curator, kept her in California. Oh, her work at the San Diego museum of art was deeply fulfilling. But it left her without much in the way of spare time, and she desperately wanted to see the world while she was still young.

In fact, she was in a taxi heading home to her 1st weekend off in almost 2 years when the driver slammed on the breaks to stop them from being in a multi-car collision. Then the driver leaned over to see if Courtney was OK, and she woke up here (and as she recalled, she was half asleep from work exhaustion in the cab to begin with).

"Wow that dream was weird, it was like I was living in a parallel universe or something."

She had just finished splashing water on her face when the phone rang.

"Hello?"

"If you want to know why you're here, head for the elevator. It will take you downstairs to the others."

She nervously left her room, thinking that whoever was on the phone sounded a lot like her cab driver.

Aaron Langemann and Ricky took the lead in their group, walking through the slot machine section in the casino. It was brightly lit, with green wallpaper and lots of background noises consisting of coins being pushed into slots, cranking of levers, tumblers rolling, and jackpot sirens a plenty. Aaron and Ricky were the first to notice that the people sitting down at the machines...weren't exactly people.

"What do you think they are Ricky, ghosts?" asked Aaron

"No idea, but they're not aware of us. I just snapped my fingers to get the attention of 1 of them. No dice, sorry." replied Ricky.

Lindsay was close enough to hear them both, and chimed in. "I don't think you need to apologize sir. In fact, given my son's long list of enemies we should all appreciate you for getting him out of the Royal York alive."

Ricky tipped his hat at Lindsay and smiled. Marcel then caught up to them and asked, "What if we're...like them?"

Laura B. Shook her head, "No Marcel, we're not. I just hugged Tina which means we're solid."

Tina nodded in confirmation, then noticed 1 of them heading her way, she moved to intercept like a linebacker. They not only went right through her, but acted like Tina didn't even exist.

Phoenix was the 1st to comment on that, "This is getting too screwed up."

Chiara nodded "Wherever we are, it's not our world anymore."

Damon snorted at that hypothesis, "Well if it's not our world. Then where is it?"

Justin observed all of this in silence, then decided that maybe the slot machines themselves weren't solid. He touched 1 with his index finger, and it didn't go through. "Well...not all of this room is ghostly."

Andrey took out a notepad and began writing something down. "This whole thing is a great idea for my next movie."

Harley then pointed to an exit sign, "Here we are guys, the main hall."

They reached it, only to see many others. Some they semi-recognized, many that they didn't.

Susan could only whisper, "This situation just got weirder."

Gregg, Karl and Fabio took the lead in their group, passing by the Craps tables. It was brightly lit, with green wallpaper and lots of background noises consisting of dice rolling around in people's hands, croupiers moving chips around felt, dice rolling across tables, bouncing on walls and announcements of 7 and 11 in cycle. Fabio filtered through the odd occurrences to ask what he thought was the most pertinent question: "Why is nobody betting against the shooters?"

Karl to his credit, played devil's advocate to his band mate perfectly "Good question. Maybe It's against house rules or something."

Gregg shook his head, "No Fabio's right, every craps table I've ever seen you can bet against the shooter if you so desire."

Leila approached the 3 fifths of the band that were in front of her and added, "And every table has everyone winning. That's strange too, isn't it?"

Julie looked around skeptically, but was forced to concur with Leila. "Yeah, what kind of Casino is stupid enough to have everyone win?"

Holly laughed slightly, "The Table manager isn't even taking a cut of each winning roll. That's standard practice even in churches."

Megan sided up to Holly, being a fellow preacher. "She's right. None of this makes any sense at all."

Jessica offered a different take, "Actually 1 thing does. If this weren't an adult establishment, my daughter would likely have been taken here too. God, I hope she's alright."

Tamara offered a sympathetic hand on her shoulder, "She is Jess, I just know it."

Heather stood in awe of this establishment, "Plenty of tables for me to pirate plenty of loot."

Solveig laughed, "Yeah. Not like anyone's losing any money. You could just get a few complimentary chips to start, bet with the shooter of your choice and let it ride until you got bored."

Elizabeth clicked her tongue, chiding everyone like the parent she was. "Come on everyone, the main hall is this way."

They reached it, only to see many others. Some they semi-recognized, many that they didn't.

Jen L. could only whisper, "This situation just got weirder."

Isaac took the lead as they passed the blackjack tables. It was brightly lit, with green wallpaper and lots of background noises consisting of dealers passing cards around, changing money to chips, awarding payouts and shuffling of multi-deck shoes. He looked back at his group and offered a rare apology:

"Sorry guys, my genre savviness seems to be off. I can't make heads or tails of any of this."

Trevor felt that he needed to see something in order to lower the anxiety of his friends, "Am I the only person that sees that every single dealer is dealing in synch with each other?"

David F. Scanned the blackjack pit quickly, "Trevor's right. Normally in casinos the pit bosses let the dealers deal at whatever pace the cards dictate."

Krystal interjected, "They're not even this synchronous in tournaments."

Everyone turned their attention to Krystal, suspecting that she was leading a life outside of being the Khabarovsk town barber. Allan stepped in to defend, "She had to win back what the Mafiya took from her as a 'cut' to keep her in business somehow. So she's been to some of their underground tournaments. Her husband doesn't mind."

Jason was put off by this much order. "Where's the chaos here? Casino games run on chance, don't they?"

Laurie nodded, "They do, Mr. Carman. But chaos does not seem to exist here."

Kate wasn't buying any of this: "The chaos is just below the surface. Being in my line of work, you can smell these sort of things."

Adam re-grouped everyone with 2 sentences, "Let's keep going. They're not bothering us, we shouldn't bother them."

Rob looked at Adam and replied, "You're right. No sense in borrowing trouble until we sort out the shitload we already have."

Melinda couldn't wait to leave this room, "Every stranger in this place scares me green."

James laughed, "Well what do you know, the main hall."

They reached it, only to see many others. Some they semi-recognized, many that they didn't.

Sherry could only whisper, "This situation just got weirder."

There were 14 elevators in this bank. It was brightly lit, with green wallpaper and lots of background noises consisting of the elevators themselves moving down to this floor. All of them leading to the main hall, all with 1 person each inside, all opening simultaneously. As soon as everyone got out, the reunions began. Only not the reunions anyone could've hoped for:

"MOM!" exclaimed Tara. She and Cindy hugged.

"Sweetie, have you been to the salon recently?"

"No, why?"

"You've never been blonde before."

"Oh mom, I've always been blonde. Come to think of it, you look a few years younger. Are you using some kind of new skin cream?

"Tara, what on earth are you talking about?"

Meanwhile, over on the British/United Colonies of France side:

"Lady Jenny? Is that you?" asked David K.

"I'm sorry, have we met?" replied Jen G.

"Yes, your family hired me to escort you into France years ago."

"Sir, I can assure you that I have never travelled outside of the state of Louisiana."

"What's a state of Louisiana?"

Buckethead began to play a slow melody. 1 of sadness and longing that most humans can't begin to imagine. Due to his use of Asian music scales however, Thom latched onto it immediately (recalling music theory lessons he received from a private music tutor as a boy). And as she was driven to sad things, so did Angie:

"You don't recognize anyone else here either, do you big guy?" asked Thom to Buckethead.

Buckethead merely shook his head, acknowledging Thom. Angie moved over to Buckethead's left as Thom was on the right. Angie almost strained her neck looking up at Buckethead, asking "It was very beautiful playing. You're not much of a talker, are you?"

Buckethead shook his head again, but shook Angie's and Thom's hands. They refrained from introducing themselves and continued onwards. With Buckethead, introductions were moot.

They were not however, moot when it came to Ivy, Dan and Laura:

"Guys, I'm such a fan of the show. It's such an honour to meet you Dan and Laura Dotson of Storage Wars." opened Ivy, experiencing a rare case of being starstruck.

"There is no such show yet, but we're working on it sir." replied Dan "but are you under the impression that this lady and I know each other?"

Laura looked confused, only getting out "I don't know this gentleman either. And there's no such TV show as Storage Wars where I come from. Who would want to watch a show about people buying storage lockers?"

They continued onward. Ivy wondering what the hell just happened, and Dan and Laura exchanging nervous glances like a couple of smitten teenagers. They may not know each other here, but each of them felt that somewhere, they did.

Whatever love was started by them however, was not exactly shared between John, Mike, Candy and Courtney:

"Um, John? How come you don't have a tan going on?" asked Mike.

"Only friends and family get to call me John, pal." replied John.

John and Mike were about to come to blows, only for Candy and Courtney to break them up.

"Boys, didn't your mothers teach you not to fight in the company of such pretty ladies?" asked Candy, batting her eyelashes. Courtney began blushing and asked, "Thank you, but I'm dressed like a slob today...miss?"

"Olsen...but please call me Candy. Who might you be?"

"Courtney Wagner, do you ever get the feeling we were best friends and business partners in another life somewhere?"

"I do. I really do. Now are you boys going to behave?"

Mike nodded reluctantly, so did John. They shook hands, sealing the truce.

"We're all in this situation together." offered John.

"Yeah, I'll co-operate with just about anyone to get out of here." countered Mike.

"Gentlemen, the main hall." said Candy with a big grin on her face, hoping this was the beginning of the way out. It wasn't

Courtney could only whisper, "This situation just got weirder."

The three inter-dimensional beings stood around the console, observing everyone they captured. #3 reported to #1 "53 of them are now in the main gaming room and should be talking to each other any second."

#2 grew agitated and asked, "And why didn't Joe P take the elevator like the others?"

#1 waved his hand in dismissal and said, "No matter. He'll be with the others soon enough. I'll head downstairs to tell them why we've gathered them all. You 2 stay here, I won't be too long."

#2 and #3 nodded and resumed looking viewing their guests.

No matter where everyone came from, everyone formed 3 or 4 loosely associated groups. The chatter of which, produced many awkward moments. Marcel, Laura B., Tina, Phoenix and Chiara joined Leila, Julie, Holly, Megan, Jessica, Gregg, Tamara, Karl, Fabio, Heather, Solveig, Elizabeth and Jen L. Which lead to this exchange, beginning with Marcel:

"Hi Elizabeth."

"I'm sorry, have we met?"

"Sure we have. Through Your Favourite Enemies."

Solveig stepped in, in an effort to help her friend and fellow winder, "Look, if Elizabeth says she doesn't know you, she doesn't know you. Also, who are your favourite enemies?"

Laura B. Then stepped in to defend Marcel, "The band from Montreal that introduced us to each other."

"Never heard of them, except in that book Aaron wrote." interjected Jessica.

"Yeah, we came to know each other through Phoenix Crysalys. A band located in Montegran, French Republic. As a matter of fact, why does Phoenix have both of her natural legs?" asked Fabio.

"You gotta problem with my legs, Fabio?" snapped Phoenix in anger. "And besides, you were decapitated last time I saw you. What are you doing missing your left arm?"

"I lost it in an accident when I was a small boy in Paris. And why is Chiara's hair a different colour?

"Because my love, I dyed it this way. And we live in Montegranaro, Italy."

Karl started laughing, "Come on guys, there hasn't been an independent Italy in years."

Gregg chimed in with "Yeah." before returning to complete bewilderment.

Then came Tina, who until now was sort of hiding in the background until she saw something that horrified her, "Holly dear, what happened to your hip?"

Holly shuddered, "I'd rather not re-tell THAT story again."

Jen L. Took off her sweater, offering it to Tamara while whispering, "Probably for the best if they don't see your artificial spine. Mainly because I think they're not quite the people we know."

Tamara nearly cried in gratitude, whispering "Thank you Jen. That was very quick thinking of you."

Heather then pitched in her 2 cents, "I knew a Marcel Bulling that looked like you. He was a ship's boy on my ship years before I knew the rest of you. 1 night there was a storm, I ordered Marcel to re-attach the mast...he fell overboard, we never saw him again."

Marcel was too busy gasping at Heather's metal leg to care that according to her, he was dead for years. Leila decided to act as a go-between, "There are many differences between us, but we are in the same situation so let's try to be adults about this. I for one recognize some of you as being different from the people I remember."

Megan nodded, "Agreed."

Julie smiled and said, "Finally, cooler heads are prevailing."

Group #2 had Lindsay, Aaron L., Damon, Justin, Andrey, Harley and Susan join Trevor, David F. Krystal, Allan, Jason, Laurie, Kate, Adam, Rob, Isaac, Melinda, James and Sherry. Lindsay began by going straight to the tough question: "I recognize who most of you are but not you 2."

Trevor and David F. Looked at her like she was crazy, David F. Took the lead in asking what he presumed was a rhetorical question, "Are you kidding Mrs. Collins? I'm your son's oldest friend."

Trevor followed, "And I keep your son socially active. Why do you think he went on such a long book tour?"

Aaron Langemann came to Lindsay's side and asked, "Then why weren't you 2 at the Royal York Hotel?"

Sherry burst into a fit of hysterical laughter, "That's just a book Aaron wrote. I will admit, you both look like Lindsay and Detective Langemann but Lindsay's hair is longer in real life and the real Aaron Langemann was 2-3 inches taller"

Damon's jaw dropped, "You think we're just book characters?"

The fight was interrupted by Justin and Krystal staring at each other. With each thinking that they were looking into a strange mirror drunk and/or high. Krystal then asked Justin, "How did you get so clean shaven. That was most certainly not my work."

"No, I did it myself. And I don't mean to be rude, but you're a good 15-20 pounds thinner than the wife I know."

Thom then entered the foray, "Hey everyone."

They all looked at him with strange bewilderment, "Do I know you?" asked Andrey. Although to be honest, it could've been asked by any of them.

"Yeah, you guys work for me in Vietnam."

Cue a symphony of laughter, followed by Susan almost shouting, "Oh please, like any of us have any reason to visit that place."

Thom attempted to change the subject slightly, "I've known Aaron for 25 years..."

David F. Snorted and said, "So have I, still don't know you pal."

Thom returned to solitude, feeling dejected that his employees acted like he didn't exist. Although something inside told him that he didn't quite know them either.

Angie then entered the foray, who was immediately stopped by Isaac, "You BITCH! You have no business coming near me after what you did to Aaron."

Angie raised her eyebrow, "I've known Aaron for over a decade, I would never harm him."

Harley stepped between them, asking Isaac, "Is this the one who claimed she wanted Aaron's kid but was sleeping around on him?"

Isaac nodded, Angie laughed and said, "Unless Aaron has a vagina that I don't know about, I would never do anything sexual with him."

Laurie then shook her head, "Wrong Angie. The Angie who dated Aaron had a unique scar giving her 3 eyebrows."

Allan and Jason walked up to Angie, examining her. There was no scar to speak of.

"She's clean." said Allan

"Yeah, no scar here." spoke Jason.

"My mistake, sorry." muttered Isaac.

"It's all good." said Angie

"Good. Was hoping I didn't have to fight her." whispered Kate as she removed some very sharp jewelry from her fingers."

Angie backed away, not wanting to provoke anyone further.

Adam breathed a sigh of relief and said, "I hate cat fights."

Rob smirked, "Speak for yourself."

Melinda nodded, "I second that."

James nodded, "Make that 3."

Group #3 was Ricky, Tara, David K., Dan, Laura, John, Candy, Ivy, Mike, Jen G., Cindy and Courtney. It was a bit calmer, but more strange:

"So, am I the only 1 who's on a storage-based T.V. show?" asked Tara.

"What's a T.V.?" asked David K.

"Oh boy. The show already exists somewhere?." said Dan, mildly sympathetic.

"I guess my earlier question was pointless." offered Laura

"Not entirely, I don't know what a T.V. is either." said John.

"Maybe a good thing, the network tried to kill a friend of mine a while back." stated Ricky, the rest looked at him like he was an idiot

"In that case, calling you by your 1st name was a presumption on my part. I apologize." said Mike, breaking his rough exterior slightly. John waved it off, as if it was nothing.

Ivy started scratching at his forehead, "This is the worst itch I've ever had."

Jen G. And Cindy started scratching their own foreheads, saying "Me too." in unison.

"Courtney, why do you have a number written on your forehead?" asked Candy.

"I was going to ask you the same question." replied Courtney.

And in the middle of it all, was Buckethead. Playing a series of atonal notes creating octave displacement as everyone began asking everyone else why they had numbers on their foreheads. He began to play louder and louder to keep up with the rising tensions in the room, culminating in someone saying, "Because you come from different parallel universes."

Buckethead stopped playing as everyone turned their attention to 1 of the inter-dimensional beings. "Thank you, Buckethead. Now, as I was saying: Myself and 2 of my associates have plucked you all from 18 different parallel earths, which we have named Aaron-worlds in honour of the author that wrote you all."

Tamara was the one to ask what was on everyone's mind, "So...we're all fictional characters written by Aaron Collins?"

The inter-dimensional being nodded, "There is no such thing as fiction, all books are real somewhere. Including books written by Mr. Collins. The detective novel, clock-punk band adventure and the vodka western are the ones we have the most information on (in fact, we don't even have a last name for 1 of the Lauras so we'll call her Laura X. From now on). The detective novel people are from Aaron-world-1924..."

Susan, Harley, Andrey, Justin, Damon, Aaron L., Lindsay, Chiara, Phoenix, Tina, Laura B., Ricky and Marcel noticed amongst themselves that they all had 1924 on their foreheads.

"...The clock-punk people are from Aaron-world-1516..."

Jen L., Elizabeth, Solveig, Heather, Fabio, Karl, Tamara, Gregg, Jessica, Megan, Holly, Julie and Leila noticed amongst themselves that they all had 1516 on their foreheads.

"...The Vodka western people are from Aaron-world-1720..."

Sherry, James, Melinda, Isaac, Rob, Adam, Kate, Laurie, Jason, Allan, Krystal, David F. And Trevor noticed amongst themselves that they all had 1720 on their foreheads.

"...And the rest of you come from even more strange Aaron-worlds."

The ones not named scrambled to find a large mirror. Tara's was 593, David K. Had 654, Buckethead had 738 (don't ask how he read it, as best as anyone could guess, he briefly pulled down his mask by 3 inches and read as best that he could), Dan had 899, Laura X. had 1083, John had 1116, Candy had 1269, Thom had 1377, Ivy had 1405, Angie had 1552, Mike had 1620, Jen G. Had 1715, Cindy had 1821, Courtney had 1934. The inter-dimensional being resumed talking, "This is why you may recognize a few people but they may not recognize you. As a matter of fact, Aaron Collins is really your only common link."

Mike B. Interrupted, asking, "Speaking of, where is Aaron? Has anyone else seen him?"

Everyone shook their heads until the Inter-dimensional being smiled, offering, "Many Aarons have in fact, been visiting many Aaron-worlds."

Krystal's eyes widened, wondering if the different eye colours again, suggested different Aarons in the same body. A lightbulb went off in Kate's brain and she charged at the Inter-dimensional being, needing to be pulled away by Mike B., Aaron L. And Trevor, "You're the other voice on the recording disk that Aaron made to write down our story, aren't you?"

The inter-dimensional waved his hand from side to side, "You're half right. It wasn't I specifically, but a...co-worker. There were at least 2 Aarons in 1 and we took the 1 that didn't belong in your Aaronworld. Now, if 1 has the mental ability to travel from world to world without aid of dreaming or delusion, we normally don't interfere as they are non-influential. But we began to notice that anytime any Aaron travelled, they would automatically assimilate every memory the host Aaron already had. Which lead to many side-effects, namely nosebleeds and social anxiety."

Everyone in the room snapped their fingers at once, finally understanding what was wrong with their Aaron. The inter-dimensional being resumed talking, "This casino is in fact, a ruse. It's a pocket universe where all of you can co-exist. The spirits you've seen were just background characters, they're not real people."

The inter-dimensional being snapped his fingers, making the people in the various gaming rooms vanish. The noises in the casino itself almost completely stopped. An elder voice shouted from the staircase on the other side of the staircase, "Is what you just said even possible? You would have to have control over a macroscopic level of time and space."

The elder man with a 900 on his forehead came in full view of the assembled group, causing wonder in all who looked upon him.

"Who?" asked David F.

"Who?" asked Jessica

"Who's that man?" asked John.

"Joseph Pauletich." replied Harley. "Storage Auction Legend."

"Couldn't have said it better myself." said Joe P with a smile. "As I was about to say, you're essentially defying what we know about Quantum Physics."

"Unless a hole in Wheeler Foam can be exploited and enlarged to a degree where you can visit other points in the...multiverse." offered Leila.

"Well if that can be done, why bother to create a pocket universe at all? And how the hell do I know about this?" offered Trevor.

Isaac smiled and offered "My guess? Because we've been summoned over 1 common goal, probably Aaron Collins related. And It's easier if these Inter-dimensional beings create the neutral site themselves then try to exist in any of the Aaron-worlds for a period of time longer than was necessary to kidnap us." Isaac for one, was feeling happy that his genre savviness was starting to come back.

"Aye, but what would that common goal be?" asked Heather.

"Because..." shouted the Inter-dimensional being in an effort to restore order. "...so many Aarons have been jumping about across the Aaron-verse section of the Multiverse that we have no idea as to who the original Aaron is. We...lost track. And worst of all, we can't see the numbers on any of the Aaron's foreheads like we can see yours."

The crowd of the kidnapped broke out in laughter until the Inter-dimensional being shouted, "SILENCE!"

They shut up.

"Now...technically you're going to be going through our...no pun intended...storage facility to scan the Aaron's that we have in custody. But only part of each of you will be doing it because if were you to see an Aaron that wasn't even partly your Aaron, you would die from the shock. We went through 14 or 15 hundred Colin Wright's before we figured that 1 out."

Jason laughed hysterically, he did not know why.

"So what did you bring us here for?" asked Gregg

The Inter-dimensional being was only happy to oblige, "We have figured out a way for you to sift through the Aaron's until you find Aaron-Prime without killing you. You will be playing a poker tournament while part of you will be going through the Aaron's. Think of it like your brain doing background stuff that you don't pay any attention to, like breathing. Every hand played, won, and eliminations mean some of the false Aaron's have been narrowed out that were not the original. The winner will receive their heart's desire for themselves and each alternate version of themselves across the Aaron-verse for the rest of their lives. Now, can you all agree as to which version of poker can be played?"

Chiara chimed in, "Let's play Omaha high-low 8 or better."

Megan shook her head, "No, let's play No-limit 2-7 lowball draw."

Allan shook his head, "No, let's play 7 card stud."

David K, "Why don't we give 13 card open faced Chinese a try."

Thom felt the confidence to try speaking again, "I have no preference."

David F. Laughed, "After 25 years of knowing him, It'll be my pleasure to beat you all."

The arguments resumed, how no one got into fist fighting is a small miracle. The inter-dimensional being was once again angry, "ENOUGH!"

Everyone went silent, The inter-dimensional being turned to David K. And said, "Sorry, but open faced Chinese is only good for 4 players to a table. But given that we have 54 of you, 10 game mix with 6 people to a table would be suitable. Not too crowded, not too open."

"And what will the mix consist of?" asked Courtney, growing slightly impatient.

"In order of popularity across the Aaron-verse: No-Limit Hold 'em, Razz, Limit Hold 'em, Badugi, 7 card stud, No Limit 2-7 lowball draw, Omaha high-low 8 or better, Pot-Limit Omaha high, Limit 2-7 Triple draw lowball and finally, 7 card stud high-low 8 or better." replied the Inter-dimensional being as he signalled to a video monitor that his 2 associates begin assembling a room of 9 tables with dealers and seat assignments configured randomly. The crowd was in state of...confused agreement, is what the closest term to describe it would be.

"And as I'm assuming none of us know how to play all 10 of these games, might I suggest a tutorial of some kind?" asked Candy.

"A very reasonable request, and I will oblige while the details are being taken care of: For the stud variants (Stud, Razz and 8 or better stud), All players bet a small amount of chips (called an ante) Two cards are dealt face down to each player, followed by 1 card face up. The lowest card is forced to pay the bring-in bet, then proceeding clockwise each player to fold, call the bring-in or raise to a full bet. The fourth, fifth, and sixth cards are dealt face up with a round of betting each. The seventh card is dealt face down, 1 more betting round, then if necessary, show your cards. In Stud, the highest hand wins. In Razz, the lowest hand wins. In 8 or better, the best and worst hand split. Bet is limit for all 3"

Andrey nodded, "3 down, 7 to go."

"Quite right Mr. Iskanov, onto both versions of Texas Hold 'em: The player to the left of the dealer posts a forced bet called the small blind, the player to the left of the small blind puts in a forced bet of their own called the big blind. 2 cards are dealt face down to every player, followed by a round of betting. Then 3 cards are dealt face up in the middle of the table. This is called the flop, and all players still in the hand share these cards, there's another round of betting. 1 more card face up, called the turn, also shared, followed by a third round of betting. Finally, 1 last card face-up, called the river, also shared, followed by a last round of betting, then if needed, show your cards. 1 variant is No-Limit which means you can bet whatever you want, 1 is limit where the betting is fixed. Antes maybe added to blinds to speed things along later"

Jen L smiled and said, "Halfway there."

"Indeed Ms. Lemons, Onto Omaha: Same betting structure, blind bets and dealing as Texas Hold 'em except that 4 cards are dealt face down in the beginning, and you MUST use exactly 2 of your private cards with exactly 3 cards on the board. 1 is played Pot-Limit High which means that the betting is limited to the size of the pot at any time and the best hand wins. Omaha High-Low 8 or better is fixed limit betting only where the best and worst hand split the pot."

Laurie scratched the side of her head and asked, "What does this 8 or better thing mean?

"It means that you must have 8 high or worse to qualify for the low half of the pot. But to compensate, Aces go low in these circumstances and straights/flushes don't count against you, In fact this compensation works in Razz too. Oh god, do I need to print out 54 different hand ranking charts for each of you guys?"

Everyone shook their heads, they knew at least that much about the game.

"That's a relief. Onto 2-7 lowball. Same blinds like Texas and Omaha but 5 cards are dealt to each player and the objective is to make the worst hand possible. In these 2 games, aces are still high and straights/flushes do count against you (as do pairs). So 2-3-4-5-7 is the holy grail in these games. Both versions have a round of betting before you can change your cards but, the No-Limit has 1 optional change of cards, the Limit Triple Draw has 3. No-Limit is still bet whatever you want, Limit is still fixed. The dealer may put a cap on how many cards can be changed on a hand-to-hand basis depending on how many cards are left in the deck."

The crowd nodded, understanding that the games so far were remarkably fair, Mike raised his hand and asked, "That was 9 of them, but what about Badugi?"

"Thank you Mr. Braiotta, I almost forgot myself. Badugi is played with blinds as in Texas, Omaha and 2-7 draw, the betting is limit, you have to make the worst hand possible only this version...aces go low, you only get four cards and each card must be a unique suit. Otherwise it works the same as Limit 2-7 triple draw lowball. In all limit games, the limits are doubled in the last 2 rounds of betting and there is no limit to the number of re-raises in any of the games. Also, if no betting has taken place and you wish to stay in for the time being, say "check" and the betting option is passed to the next clockwise person. Actually, all of the dealing is done clockwise. Finally, for those of you who haven't been exposed to poker on TV, any time you bet your whole stack, please announce all-in. Thank you, Questions?"

Everyone shook their heads.

"Good, when you are eliminated, feel free to wander around this pocket universe or stay in this room (but please do not comment on any hand in-progress). All food and drink is free. As players are eliminated we will be breaking down some tables and moving some players still in the game around in order to ensure that everyone plays as close to an equal amount of hands as possible. All of the little casino rules will be explained but I have more than covered the basics"

Another Inter-dimensional being nodded at the first one, "Excellent, the room is ready. Follow me everybody."

They did as they were told, with Aaron L. Catching up to Isaac, "The Isaac Tong that I know has a sixth sense regarding his surroundings, do you?"

Isaac winced uncomfortably, "Normally I do, but something is off about all of this. I just have no idea as to what, best to play along for now while I figure this out."

They reached their private room complete with neutral dealers at each table, black felt and white pucks with the word "Dealer". A third Inter-dimensional being pushed a button on a large LCD display (shocking the people who had never seen electricity before) to indicate the random table and seating arrangements:

Table 1: Lindsay, Solveig, Laurie, Cindy, Damon, Marcel

Table 2: Harley, Gregg, Adam, Tara, Laura X., Andrey

Table 3: Tina, Heather, David F., Dan, Holly, Sherry

Table 4: Aaron L., Megan, Rob, Buckethead, Angie, Tamara

Table 5: Susan, Karl, Trevor, Mike, John, Ricky

Table 6: Justin, Julie, Kate, Joe, Ivy, Leila

Table 7: Phoenix, Jessica, Allan, Thom, James, Jen G.

Table 8: Chiara, Jen L., Krystal, David K., Candy, Isaac

Table 9: Laura B., Fabio, Jason, Courtney, Elizabeth, Melinda

Pit bosses came to each table with equally mixed denominations of chips for each player. The Inter-dimensional being who has been with them the longest spoke, "Everyone will have 15,000 in starting chips. Currencies are not necessary as there are so many different ones used between you. As soon as everyone is seated properly, Shuffle up and deal!

The 3 inter-dimensional beings, satisfied that everyone could begin, left them to their own devices and returned to their control room.

"Do you think that the savvy one is onto us?" asked #3.

"No, even this pocket universe is barely within everyone's comprehension." replied #2.

"I should hope so. It will keep them from finding out that we lied to them. The winner gets nothing at all and once we have eliminated the Aaron's down to Aaron-Prime, we shall execute the players, unleash our anti-matter explosives and DESTROY THE ENTIRE AARONVERSE!"

The inter-dimensional beings laughed, some more nervously than others.


End file.
